To Seek The Truth
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: John is losing his mind...he couldn't have seen what he did that night in Sam's nursery...but he did...and so he goes to someone he doesn't want to admit that he thinks might be able to help him...He goes to seek the truth...


**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own the characters...I am merely borrowing them.

Kripke owns all my toys, damn him...

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**Chapter 1:**

**The Past That Haunts, The Ties That Bind...**

The torrid storm crashed and clashed in the smoke-dark skies. It hunkered down low over the small Kansas town. The moody dark reflected the bitter, brooding thoughts of the darkly handsome figure ensconced in the relative safety of the interior of the slick black Impala. He glared openly at the dashboard, his hands gripping the wheel as if it held salvation from certain death. His white-knuckled grip painfully tight, but it didn't even register in his thoughts at the moment. He stole another glance at the house across the street, the cyclone of thoughts whirling heavily in his mind drowned out his physical needs at the moment. The fact that he hadn't ate or slept in days was of no concern to him right now…

**_"What the hell am I doing here?...I should be home…"_** his mind caught on the last word he had thought, a bitter sadness welled up in his chest. There was no more home to go to. Though the house had not fully been consumed by the fire, he knew in his heart he could never go back there...not after what had happened…That life was at an end now. All he had left was his determination to find out what had really killed the woman he loved and taken the life he had always craved away from him. He had to, she deserved the vengeance he desired. She deserved to be avenged…He would walk through Hell itself if he had to. She and the boys had meant everything to him. Now, it was left to him to raise the boys, all alone in this world. He could hardly look upon Dean now, everything about his eldest son reminded him of Mary. The way his eyes seemed to be able to search his soul, the unruly mop of tawny hair, John found himself turning away from him…from his own son…and it sickened him. Right down to his soul, it sickened him, but it was more than he could bear to have a constant reminder of the life he lost ever so close and near by…

Bitter tear drops strolled down his hollowed cheeks, streaming as heavily and steadily as the rivulets of rain on his windshield. He let his head drop. His eyes clenched against the terrible sadness inside…**_"I'm sorry Dean…I don't mean to turn away from you, but you are so like Mary, and I am so lost without her and…I'm sorry son…"_** he whispered to the darkness of the Impala's silent cab, wishing he could say those words to the one who deserved hear it, but he knew he probably never would…

His eyes flickered open to steal a glance at the house across the way again. He turned his blood-shot, bleary eyes back to the steering wheel in front of him, emotions and thoughts stirring crazily inside his weary mind. He felt dizzy…light headed…He knew he **should** eat, but he had no will to carry out the act of actually doing so. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of the violently spinning and tilting world, willing it to pass. He had no idea how long he sat there, but finally, it retreated to a foothold in the pit of his stomach. He allowed himself to breathe deeply for the moment, glad that it had passed. He had a decision to make…Should he do what he came here to do or should he return to the boys. Neither option appealed to him greatly at the moment. He considered why he had come to this place in the first place. It seemed crazy…He had never believed in all this psychic mumbo-jumbo…He had always believed it was fake, serving only to sucker weak-minded people out of hard earned cash. But, after seeing what he knew he had seen inside the nursery the night that…no…he couldn't even think that thought…He shook his head and moved on. He had begun to think that maybe, if something like that…that something like that dark evil could exist, maybe…maybe there could be some truth in this as well…He found himself swatting down the notion. No…no he doubted that…I mean, if this sort of thing was real, why did such terrible things still happen? If people could really make predictions or whatever, how come they didn't use it to help the world or themselves? He was just deluding himself in thinking this crazy idea would have been worthwhile. His desperation to avenge Mary had pushed him to unexpectedly crazy heights, he thought. He sighed…he should really be getting back…He reached for the keys and positively nearly jumped out of his own skin when the sound of politely quiet rapping issued from outside his window…

He clutched his chest, his trip-hammer heart beat kicking his dizzy, weak and weary body into over-drive as the adrenaline rushed in…

There at his window stood a feminine figure wrapped in darkness…She bent low, her umbrella gently resting against the roof of the car. He rolled down the window to look upon her face more clearly. Her soulful brown eyes peered brightly into his own and he had the sudden, overwhelming feeling that she was reading his very soul. He tried to shift his gaze away, but found himself incapable of the task…

She finally broke the connection, nodding silently to herself…Her heard give a small hrumpf as she shivered lightly from the cold…

She stood there, her body setting a stern outline in the grey of the storm. Her stern face softened slightly as she stepped back a little…

"John Winchester, I know why you're here…if you want to know the answers you seek, then you need to get your butt inside my house or open that car door an let me in, cause I ain't standin' out here in the rain all night!" She snapped.

Her sassy tone and knowledge of his name and supposed knowledge of his purpose here caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would come he closed it and tried to swallow, attempting to recruit the necessary moisture into his throat to speak, but it wouldn't come. He stared in wide wonder and shock at her. She sighed and rolled her eyes, coming back to the door, she reached in and popped the lock before gripping the handle and opening the door…

"John Winchester, so help me, if you don't get your butt into my house this instant, I'll smack you with a wooden spoon!!!" her stern tone bore the slightest hint of amusement….

John couldn't help himself. The barest hint of a smile broke across his lips, which in their dry, chapped state wasn't necessarily a good thing. He felt the skin break open. He winced at the sharpness of the pain. He sighed…he knew she meant what she had said. He grabbed his leather coat, wrapping it's supple warmth around him as he unfolded himself from the cab of the Impala, stepping under the welcome protection of her umbrella, she waited patiently as he rolled up the window and thumbed the lock. He swung the heavy door closed. It made a slight groaning squeak…He reminded himself to fix that…He stood tall over her, though he was only 5'9"…she looked at him expectantly and he realized she wanted him to take the umbrella from her. He'd almost forgotten how to be a gentleman in these long days without Mary. He shook his head lightly, his eyes flickering closed for a moment, willing himself not to think of her. He opened his eyes and turn to look at the woman. He gestured with his large hand, bowing slightly…"After you Madame…"

She nodded her approval, and lead him across the rain-slick street, up the path and onto her porch where he reached for the door and held open for her. She glided past him into the warm, cozy interior of the front parlor. He shook the umbrella off, folding it down and placed it down to drain off the rain just outside the door. He followed her in and closed the door after himself. She waited obligingly then turned and ambled down a narrow hallway to a sitting room in the back. He followed her. She surprised him when he entered the room by stopping and stepping aside. He looked at her questioningly…

"Sit…park your butt right down over there…" she said, pointing to a comfy, worn leather couch…"I gotta go warm up your dinner… You sat out there so long that it's barely even room temperature by now!! And don't you dare object!!! You will eat every last bite of it, John Winchester!!!"

Her slightly menacing tone was all the incentive he needed to know better than refuse her. He nodded and moved in the direction she had pointed, letting himself sink down into the proffered couch's welcoming depths. She sighed and turned, walking down a side hall toward what he assumed was the kitchen. Her voice floated back down the hall toward him…"And don't you dare even think about puttin' your muddy feet up on my coffee table!!!!"

John sank into the couch a bit deeper, the tiniest bit of a blush coloring his cheeks. He had just, a mere moment before she spoke, been considering exactly that. He pondered over her. He found himself a bit at a loss. She was the real deal, even he had to admit that. He tried to think about what he would say when she returned but he was quite suddenly so very tired. His lids became heavy and he found himself drifting off…He slouched down despite himself and leaned his weary head back against the supple softness of the leather. In moments, he was gone…

In the kitchen, Missouri could practically see his weary mind, the gears stumbling in their turns, fighting to keep going, but failing. She sighed as she pulled out a slip of tin-foil and wrapped the food tightly, placing it in the fridge for safe keeping. She shook her head**_…"That boy doesn't know if he's comin' or goin' right now…"_** she thought with a sigh. She turned to shuffle her aching body down the hall to her linen closet, opening the sturdy door without so much as a squeak. She was handy enough to keep up with things like that. She liked to keep her house in good repair. She retrieved a nice, soft down pillow and a quilt from the shelf and closed the door.

She made her way back down the halls and entered her sitting room, pausing for a moment to look upon him with kind eyes… **_"Poor boy_**", she thought**_…"so lost and weary right now…"_** She knew it was going to be a long road ahead of him and that he was never really going to let himself rest until he took care of his unfinished business…She hoped for his sake and the sake of his boys that he would be able to do so sooner rather than later, but even for someone with a gift such as hers, she was hard-pressed to see everything there was to see. She shook her head sadly and moved quietly to him. She set the bedding aside for a moment and knelt beside him. Reaching out, she undid the laces of his boot, loosening the lower laces enough to pull the it off his foot with minimal jerking. She repeated the process for his other boot and stood slowly, her joints creaking and her muscles voicing their complaints loudly. She shuffled toward the door, placing the boots down on the mat by the door. She would see about getting them cleaned up in the mornin'…

She shuffled back to him, placing the pillow against the side of the couch. She reached out to him, one hand on the front flap of his coat and the other on his opposite shoulder, she gently tipped him forward, peeling the supple leather off his shoulder and back, sliding it down until his arm came free. It was a mark of how tired he was that he never stirred…She pulled it out from behind him, lowering him back to the couch back for a moment to switch sides. At last, she pulled the coat free of his well-muscled form and set it aside for a moment. She placed her free hand on his firm, bristly jaw and applied gentle pressure to his shoulder as she guided his head toward the pillow. He tilted into the comforting softness, a groaning sigh escaping his cracked and chapped lips as he was accepted its utterly wonderful depths…

Missouri placed her other hand on his cheek, caressing it softly for a moment…"Rest John…take all the time you need…I'll be here when you're ready…" she knelt to him, gently kissing his brow before she leaned back and withdrew her hands. She lifted his heavy legs onto the couch, they were just a little to long to stretch out completely, but he should be comfortable enough, she decided. She plucked up the quilt from where she had set it down and deftly threw the length out away from her, letting it drift down over his body. She checked to make sure the length covered his feet, and found she had a bit of room to spare. Good, she thought…She tugged the top gently, bringing up a bit more to tuck under his chin. His chest rose and fell in a deep, steady cycle. A soft, deeply rumbling snore purred out of his slightly parted lips. She smiled down on him despite herself. He reminded her a bit of a grizzly bear. She stood back, lifting his coat from where she had placed and turned to look at him for a moment. She sighed deeply as she dimmed the light and left to seek the solace of her own bed. She stopped briefly at the hall closet by the door to hang his coat inside, then turned and shuffled up the stairs to her bedroom…

Tomorrow would bring answers for the poor man…and those answers would raise even more questions…He was in for a bit of a harsh ride in the days to follow and though she knew he deserved the truth…that he craved it deeply, she didn't envy him the fact that everything he thought he knew about the world was about to come crashing down around him…

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**A/N:** Yay!! Missouri!! Love her...Love Bobby, too and he and some other familiar characters will be making appearances in future chapters....


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